


Sara perche ti amo

by Fluidfyre



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Challenge Response, F/M, Hurt, Kink Meme, Oral, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluidfyre/pseuds/Fluidfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Head over heels for the Warden, Zevran finds himself out of his element - and seeks to find familiar ground at the Pearl. To reassure himself - to show he is still in control. But what of Lyna, sweet Lyna Mahariel...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sara perche ti amo

**Author's Note:**

> In response to this Dragon Age kinkmeme challenge:  
>  _Zevran is head over heels for the Warden. Scared and a little angry, he goes to the Pearl and spends the night with a whore, just to reassure himself he’s still in control._
> 
>  _F!Warden (preferably Tabris, though I’m not picky) ends the romance (not angry, not aggressive, just matter-of-fact-I-knew-how-you-were-from-the-start) saying she can’t be in an open relationship and it was foolish of her to pursue a romance with Zevran for that same reason. Zevran realizes a bit too late his mistake._
> 
>  _Happy or sad ending? You decide! If you want to add a ‘previously rejected’ Alistair to the mix I don’t care!_

The dark haired human almost spilled the wine on his lips as she lifted the cup, and Zevran's eyes sparkled over the edge. Licking the red liquor away, he caught the girl's other hand to pull her in for a rough kiss. She squeaked, but he could feel her smile and it invited him close again. It had not been enough, throwing her over the bed to fuck her without mercy. No - no he needed more.

There was no charade or resistance in her, and her mouth opened in a deep gasp as his head dipped to her breast, thumbing before suckling at the hardening nipple. They were heavy, not pert like hers, and the sound in her throat was all wrong.

This luscious whore was no Warden.

He had refused to come to her room tonight. She had been confused, but did not press his discomfort. The Landsmeet loomed overhead, and they were plotting the infiltration of Howe's mansion without him. He had some time before he was to meet her.

Lyna... where were her firm thighs and sure hands pulling him close.

Zevran opened his eyes to the Rivaini human with soft curves and ample hips, whose hands were in his hair as he bit her breast and brought a gasp. This was no honed Dalish beauty, there were no marks on her body, no trophies of her trials, no ink on her features. His stomach twisted even as his loins stirred and hardened more, the whore's hands cupping his balls and making him groan.

The Antivan tightened his fist in the girls hair, and her neck tensed as he hissed, "Now let us find a better use for those lips."

Buttered by his accent, the girl rolled him over, pressing him back on the bed as she descended his body. Zevran closed his eyes, revelling in the sensations of the flesh. Fingers down his toned abdomen and thighs, she followed the musculature as he parted his legs. His hand tightened in her hair at the base of her neck as she stroked down his shaft, plying the skin back to lavish her tongue over the sensitive tip.

That it were her, he could almost see the fiery glow over their tent, falling back into the bedroll stripped of their leathers. The scent of wood, of sweat, of blood. Daggers on either side of them as she gathered her hair over her shoulder to let him see as her lips took him.

Zevran groaned as the whore took him, well trained in the arts, and a hiss escaped as he looked down his body to see her suckling down to the base. He gently bucked his hips, nudging himself into the back of her throat. She took it without a qualm, and he chuckled richly, eyes closing as her tongue slicked up the underside.

Why a woman, why a human? He should have gone with the elf... a man he could - Zevrane sucked a breath through his teeth as she ran a finger over his perineum, applied pressure making his cock throb.

"Yesss," Zevran whispered, head back in the covers as he breathed deep. It was a moment before a saliva-wet finger circled the tight ring before working in, and he groaned deeply, pressing her down on his cock, feeling her tongue lap and caress about him.

It wasn't her, he wanted it to be, but it wasn't his Dalish beauty. His, who was he to think such things. He had come here to escape her - no, to escape these thoughts.

Zevran inhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his hips to nudge his cock in the girl's mouth, to glide it in her hand as she tantalized his senses. He should restrain, but that was not his want. What restraint was needed? He had paid his whore for just this, to drink his seed, to pleasure him and erase his mind. He let go of her hair, sinking back to let her do the work.

Lyna... my sweet Warden, why can I only see you, were it your lips again, why do I do this...

The girl was an expert, there was no doubt as she worked in a second finger, hitting just right as she suckled and stroked, and Zevran huffed for air. He ran his fingers through her hair again, wanting to feel her bob as her lips and tongue glided over his shaft. His breath clipped as he let go, writhing up as he cried out and spurt into her mouth.

When she rolled off him, licking her lips and regarding him with dilated eyes, Zevran was off the bed. Naked from the waist down, the endings of his tattoos could be seen swirling low on his stomach, and he took the cloth from the basin, still breathing roughly as he cleaned himself off.

"Thank you, my dear. Just what I needed," he murmured, fetching a few more silvers from his things and leaving them on the stand. So long as it was good, he always over-paid. He knew even in a well-kept establishment that the life of a whore was not an easy one.

"Thank you," she whispered, still naked on the bed. Her voice was delicate and airy - nothing like hers. Wanting and giving - he had not had to take.

They were nothing alike.

Clad in his armour again with little bravado, Zevran strolled out the Pearl and slipped into the shadows of the street. The night was lightening towards dawn - his excursion had taken longer than anticipated. He cursed under his breath and increased his pace.

Gliding through doorways and slipping in scarce noticed, it was not long before Zevran had found his way back to the Arl Eamon's estate, and up to the second floor where Lyna had a room. Hopefully he could be there when she returned. Already he regretted his foray on the docks.

That he could simply leave it behind and emerge. Everything he knew said to feel this way was wrong, but it was her.

Lyna was already in the room when he slipped in the door. She stood by the window hugging herself, gazing out at the gardens below. Out of her armour, she wore a shift of her own making, brought from her clan. She seemed out of place in the room, a seedling uprooted and tossed in the street.

"My dear Warden..."

Her chin tucked down as Zevran spoke. The mask of her strength had fled and left a radiant woman in its wake. Her dark hair was undone, left to cascade over her shoulders, and it was clear she had been crying. There were no tears now, and she seemed carved from stone, despite her tanned skin.

"You never hid what you were from me. But I thought I would be enough." Lyna picked her words carefully, eyes on some point beyond the glass. "I had thought I could get past it."

It was a hit in the chest that stole his breath, though Zevran kept his composure. She knew. She knew he had gone to satisfy his lust with some whore. Never would it have bothered him before, what was this - this, this was why he had run. Because it made him feel wrong.

"I am who I am."

"I cannot do it." Lyna put a hand over her mouth, and Zevran took a few steps closer. She raised the hand, and his feet stopped. "Please, lethallin, go. We cannot be."

He had not gone to her, he had not lavished her in the simple kisses that made her glow, that wiped away the stress in her eyes, embraced her and teased her till she kissed him. There were no lips or fingers in her hair, on her throat, tracing the lithe curves of her body. And there would not be again.

Zevran nodded and turned, hesitating by the door to simply say, "For what is worth, I am sorry, mi amore."

He had lost himself. And now she was gone. Gone to find something more she deserved, a hero she deserved.

And he was empty.


End file.
